Not a sigh and not a sorrow

[andhiswife]

Greta had given herself plenty of time. She'd needed it. There was a lot to read about modern-day dog ownership, and plenty of supplies to acquire. On top of that, she'd wanted to give her enthusiasm time to fade, if it was going to. The idea of getting a dog had struck suddenly enough to qualify as a whim. She needed to be certain that she wanted a dog for its own sake, and not just because she was desperate for something to do.

But her research hadn't put her off, and her enthusiasm hadn't waned. She staggered her supply runs, giving herself ample time to reconsider. But, two weeks after she first started seriously thinking about it, she finds herself with everything a dog might require. (Except for a bed. The necessity of that seems questionable, and she wouldn't know what size to get until she chose a dog, anyway.)

There's really no need to put it off any longer.

She calls Demelza, intending to suggest they find a time over the next few days, but she isn't surprised when her friend insists that they can make today work, and she doesn't argue. Within the hour, Demelza's cheerfully leading her towards one of Darrow's animal shelters.

"Thank you for this," Greta says for the nth time, her arm linked with her friend's and a long-absent bounce in her step. "It'll be good to have a second opinion."

Comments

[letitbetrue]

What is truly good, in Demelza's opinion, is seeing Greta in such good spirits, seeing that smile on her face and her mood clearly improved. What she's learned, the horrible things about her story finally being known, there's no undoing that, but Demelza is of the mind that people are often stronger than they believe themselves to be and so she imagines it's only time that Greta needs until most of the awfulness is behind her and the days ahead look bright once more.

"You're welcome," she says cheerfully, though she believes she ought to be the one thanking Greta instead. This is an opportunity she might not have had otherwise, as she knows better than to bring home any other animals while Garrick is still around. Ross would likely make space in their home for another dog by insisting Demelza sleep on the sofa. Helping a friend choose a dog, though, relieves her of the burden of taking one home herself, all while giving her the chance to enjoy choosing an animal.

"Have 'ee thought about whether you'd like a puppy or a full grown dog?" she asks as they head toward the shelter. "I had Garrick as a pup, but tis different now and I d'think I understand why someone might want an adult dog instead of a puppy."

[andhiswife]

Greta hums, both pensive and a bit wry. "They do make puppies sound rather... demanding," she says. "Like you can't even leave them alone for a single second, or you'll ruin them." She supposes it makes sense for a puppy to need more minding than a grown dog, but fussing over them as if they're no different than a baby seems a bit much.

She does live close enough to her workplace to nip home every other hour to check on a puppy. Does she really want to, though?

"It seems as if the biggest reason to get a puppy is so you can get them used to people while they're young. But if they've got a grown dog who isn't hiding in the corner or snapping at strangers..." she shrugs. "And it might be nice to have something too big to sit on, if I ever brought it to work. Or big enough to survive being sat on." Most of the children at the Gardens would know better, but puppies -- and even small dogs -- are fragile things. She's not sure it would be wise to combine children who aren't quite sure how to handle a dog with a dog too young to know how to handle children.

[letitbetrue]

Demelza laughs at the thought of it, knowing Garrick would happily suffer any child sitting on him, perhaps even trying to ride him as a horse, and she expects Greta would like a dog that could do the same.

"Puppies learn with their mouths, too," she says, having learned that after her arrival in Darrow. It had made sense to her, as she remember Garrick during that first year, how he had nipped at everything, had chewed whatever he could find until he realized it wasn't something worth chewing. He's not done so in years, doesn't so much as snap at a single thing, except perhaps for the flies, but as a puppy, he'd had so much to learn. "And their little teeth are like needles. They don't mean harm, but tis only that they don't know better. An older dog wouldn't be so prone to nipping any of the children."

Her smile grows a little then as they approach the door. "And it would be nice, wouldn't it, if your dog and Garrick might be able to play. They would wear themselves out and be socialized at the same time. I learned that's important with dogs as well, to have them spend time with other dogs so they know how to properly behave."

[andhiswife]

Greta hums in wry acknowledgment. There were no shortage of toys at the stores she's visited, and there aren't too many other things in her apartment that a puppy could get into. One of the dubious upsides of never quite settling in before is that she hasn't accumulated too much clutter. But she wouldn't expect a puppy to necessarily leave things like furniture legs alone, no matter how many other things it had to chew. And while she expects to tolerate a certain amount of pet-related mess, she's not sure she wants to deal with a dog that's outright destructive (even if it's too young to know better).

"I was thinking that, too," she says, grinning at the thought of their dogs playing together. "I imagine it would be good for both of them. And Garrick's such a good dog; he'd set a good example."

They step into the shelter, and Greta raises her eyebrows as she takes it all in. The lobby is quieter than she'd anticipated -- she can hear some intermittent barking, but it's muffled and faint -- and it smells of musty, animal smells mingled with the sharper scent of cleaning products. There are shelves of food and other supplies along the windowless walls. It seems more like a shop than a place that actually keeps animals, but there are doors with signs to direct people towards the cats and smaller creatures. And as she approaches the desk, she realizes there's a small, bug-eyed dog behind the counter, sitting on a swivel chair, like it's playing at being an employee.

The actual employee, a young man with an affable air, smiles at them. "Hey. Can I help you folks with anything?"

"We were hoping to look at your dogs," Greta says, glancing at the one on the chair.

"Oh, sure. It's just this way." The man steps out from behind the counter and leads them down a little hall. "Some of them are out in the yard, so this won't be all of them. And -- fair warning -- they can be a little loud when you first walk in. People are exciting." He shrugs, as if it's nothing to worry about, so Greta just exchanges a look with Demelza before letting the man wave her through the door to the kennels.

She's glad for the warning, as it turns out, because there's rather a lot of barking, loud enough that Greta's steps falter, as if a stiff breeze had blown into her. Several dogs run to the front of their pens so they can rear up and plant their paws on the fencing, and she gawps down the row in surprise. There's over a dozen that she can see, and this isn't even all of them? How on earth is she supposed to choose?

[letitbetrue]

For all that Demelza is usually quite observant, she doesn't notice the way Greta falters, too distracted by the sudden rush of dogs. There's one just to their left, a sweet faced mutt with short, dark hair and little brown patches on his back, and Demelza wishes to take him home immediately. And just beyond is a massive creature, black and white and brown, a docile and happy expression on her face, and Demelza can imagine any child loving to just bury their hands and face in all that soft and shaggy fur.

"Aren't you sweet?" she asks a blond dog to their right, one whose tail is wagging furiously, though not a single bark escapes her. She's so happy to see them that her tail wagging has her entire body swaying and when Demelza moves to stand in front of her door, the dog jumps up and then spins in excitement, still wriggling with joy.

"Oh, why are they here?" she asks and although she's still smiling, her expression has faltered a little. Although she had been told of the shelters, she finds now she hadn't been the slightest bit prepared, not for all these sweet animals who need homes, all of them in cages, all of them without families to love them. "Why hasn't someone swept them all up already? They're so sweet and so happy."

And they deserve someone who loves them. Demelza knows they're here for Greta, but she wants to bring home every last one of them.

[andhiswife]

"Let me know if there's anyone you want to get a closer look at," the man says. "And you can get to the yard through that door at the far end. Elise is out there, so she can help you, too." He offers them both a smile, then heads back through the door.

Greta lets out a breath, then crouches by one of the cages, letting a small, scruffy terrier sniff at her hand through the bars. A sign on the door informs her that his name is 'Nigel.' "I didn't realize there'd be so many," she says. "Or that they'd all be so sweet." And none of them are puppies, from what she can see -- or not young puppies, anyway. With their shapes and sizes being so varied, it's impossible to tell which ones might still have some growing to do (though she assumes, or perhaps just hopes, that the more massive ones don't).

She's growing accustomed to the noise, but she still feels a bit overwhelmed by the choice before her. She doesn't really want to leave any of these poor creatures in their cages. She knows, logically, that they're being treated well. They have food and water, toys and beds. But it's not the same as being home, just as a perfectly adequate apartment isn't the same as a Village. Much as it pleases her to think that she might be able to give a dog something that's been taken from her, she can still only pick one.

"I think... I think I'd like to see the yard," she says, straightening. Mostly, she wants to reassure herself that there is a nice, big place for them to run about. That'll make it easier to choose, because she won't feel so monstrous for leaving any of them behind. "We could come back, after," she adds, not wanting Demelza to think she's just ruling out everyone inside.

[letitbetrue]

"Do 'ee think Ross might kick me out if I were to bring home just five or six of them?" she asks, wiggling her fingers through the cage door at one dog who licks them in response. Then she stands and nods in response to Greta's request, knowing she is here to help her friend above all else, not to take dogs home for herself. Truly she can't, not in the apartment, it wouldn't be fair. Already Garrick doesn't have enough room to run around and she knows they can't yet afford a house of their own and so she never asks Ross to provide them with more space.

They make do with what they have, as they always have before and as they will for the rest of their lives together and she will be happy for it. Because she has him, they have each other, and they have their children. For that reason alone, they are lucky, and she will never once take that for granted.

"Let's go outside," she agrees, reaching to take Greta's arm again and heading toward the door that will lead them out into the yard. The dogs continue to bark excitedly as they pass by and Demelza glances at each and every one, wanting to see all their sweet faces, wanting them to know they've been seen. They don't think like people, she knows that, but she can't help but thinks of them like they are, regardless. Garrick has such a strong, sweet personality, and so she imagines all dogs must be the same.

[andhiswife]

"Well, if it's only five or six, that seems reasonable," she jokes, albeit gently. Even a few of the tiniest dogs the shelter has to offer would be too much underfoot in an apartment. Marvin seems to do well indoors, provided he's taken out for walks, but he's just one, small dog that's used to being indoors, regardless. Garrick probably doesn't take to confinement so easily, let alone with other dogs competing for space. But Demelza already knows that, and Greta can hardly blame her for wanting to bring all these poor creatures home.

It's a relief to step back out into the fresh air, though things aren't quite as open as she'd expected. The hallway still continues on, in a way, with high, chain-link fences on either side of them. But instead of being between rows of cages, they're between two spacious yards. One is empty, and looking rather scrubby: the grass is patchy, and the ground is dotted with holes that have been haphazardly refilled. The other looks a bit more lush, and holds a half dozen or so dogs. Some are romping about, some sprawl in the grass, and one is standing in a blue, plastic wading pool filled with water. They all look like they're having a grand old time, and Greta lets out a quiet sigh of relief. This isn't so bad.

"They must swap them between yards to give the grass time to recover," she realizes. "Like rotating pastures." But you rotate pastures for the necessity of livestock. Here, they could only be doing it for the dogs' comfort and enjoyment.

They have to step through a pair of gates to actually get to where the dogs are -- redundancies to make sure none get loose, she supposes -- and even though they're not locked, Greta hesitates, wondering if they really ought to barge in. But a teenage girl who must be Elise waves at them from across the yard. "Hey! You can come in if you want, just make sure to shut the gate behind you. They're all super friendly!"

That's all the permission Greta needs, so she lets them both through, glancing back to make sure no one's skirts are getting caught along the way. Their entrance into the yard is much less dramatic than stepping into the kennel. The dogs playing with one another hardly seem to take notice, and the one in the pool looks over and wags its tail, but doesn't seem inclined to leave the water (and it's a warm enough day that she hardly blames it). But one dog that had been lying in the grass lifts its head when the latch squeaks back into place. When it spots them, it rolls to its feet, shakes its coat from nose to tail tip, and comes loping over.

"Oh, no," Greta breathes, an undercurrent of delighted laughter in her tone. It's so fluffy. It actually puts her rather in mind of Garrick -- the size is similar, and so is the general shape. Those could almost be Garrick's eyes peering out from beneath its silky eyebrows. But its fur is longer and curlier, blotched with varying shades of brown, and its tail is so heavily fringed that it could almost pass for a pony's. She crouches down without thinking, never mind that she only has a random young woman's word for it that the dog's as friendly as it seems. But the animal ducks its head submissively as it draws close, and after sniffing Greta's hand, it pointedly shoves its head beneath her palm. Its fur is as soft as a rabbit's. "Aren't you sweet?" Greta quickly checks to make sure she isn't going to land in anything unfortunate, then sits down on the grass. The dog stretches forward with a slightly timid air to sniff at her face, then flops down beside her and rolls onto its back, its head on Greta's leg and its tail twitching as it gives her a hopeful, sidelong look. It might as well have spoken to her, its meaning is so plain. She rubs its belly obligingly, then grins up at Demelza. "It's so soft!"

[letitbetrue]

Though Demelza had at one point assumed she knew a fair bit about the shelters and how they were run, she finds herself realizing now that she truly hadn't the slightest idea. There are different yards and so many gates and so many dogs that Demelza finds she doesn't know where to look first and instead settles on simply following Greta. They are here for her, after all, and it only makes good sense to make her the centre of what they're doing, especially when there are so many distractions around them.

She could spend hours here, she realizes, playing with the dogs and caring for them, brushing them and feeding them and making sure they're walked. Her job at Green Gardens is one she loves dearly, but perhaps they would let her come by the shelter once or twice a week, just to help a little here and there.

The dog that approaches them is perhaps less excitable than some of the others they had seen inside and Demelza thinks that may be for the best. She and Greta have spoken about it, after all, they've discussed how it would be best for the dog to be patient with children, and one that jumps and barks is probably not the one Greta is going to want to bring to Green Gardens. This dog, though, is gentle and not quite timid, but slow in its movements and Demelza smiles when Greta rubs its belly, sinking into a crouch alongside her.

She holds her hand toward the dog, letting it sniff her fingers before she begins to stroke its ears gently.

"Tis terribly soft," she agrees with a smile. "And so sweet. What a lovely face."

[andhiswife]

"A bit like Garrick's, isn't it? Except the fur's longer." It doesn't mean much -- it can't be more than a coincidence -- but she still finds it encouraging. It's hard to imagine this particular dog trotting around the Village, if only because its fur is so improbably fine. But it still has the vague look of a 'real' dog: the sort bred by accident, or in pursuit of something besides a specific look.

The dog solemnly braces a paw against Greta's arm, as if it's about to impart grave news, but all that follows is a little sneeze. Greta echoes it with a snort of laughter. "Bless you," she says, as the dog squirms to get more comfortable.

"That's Sadie." Greta glances up to see Elise grinning down at them, and the girl crouches a moment later to give the dog's fur a fond ruffle. "She's a sweetheart. We're pretty sure she's part poodle, but we're not sure about the rest. Could be border collie, or Aussie -- that might explain the color, how it's all blotchy." She smoothes a hand over the dog's side illustratively, then cants her head a little to one side, glancing between Greta and Demelza. "Are you looking to adopt?"

"I am," Greta replies, trying not to feel (or look) self-conscious, as if she has no business doing any such thing. She knows she's ready, and Elise hardly cuts an imposing figure. Still, she feels compelled to add, "I've never actually had a dog before, but I've done a lot of reading, and I've got everything I need." She looks to Demelza for back-up, though she's not sure if it's Elise or her own self in need of additional assurance.

[letitbetrue]

"She does," Demelza chimes in helpfully, looking up at the young woman who has joined them. "I already have a dog and I must doubt my husband would be very pleased with me if were t'bring home another, but Greta is in dire need of a dog, I believe. And she's quite lovely and I know she'll be wonderful to a dog who needs a home."

Perhaps she wasn't being asked to give such a testimonial, but she feels it can't hurt. Although she's done all the necessary legal requirements to have Garrick in Darrow and although she'd known about the shelters, she's still far from an expert and she wants her friend to be approved to bring a dog home. Good character references can only be looked upon as a benefit, she expects.

"Well, that's good to know," Elise says with a bit of a surprised laugh. "Lots of people come here for their first dog, though, so we offer a bunch of help. If you decide one of the dogs is right for you, we'll send you home with some of their things so they have familiar toys and it's best to transition their food, so we would give you some of that, too. Adoption fees include three vet visits with our onsite vet, too."

[andhiswife]

That's more of a testimonial than Greta had anticipated, and her eyebrows tick up in surprise. They could've done without 'dire need,' perhaps -- she doesn't want to seem desperate, does she? Or does it not matter? But when she risks a sheepish glance over at Elise, the girl doesn't seem at all put off. Well, the idea is for them to not keep the dogs forever. Greta has no doubt they'll want to see them into good homes, but perhaps they won't make the whole process more trying than it needs to be.

Sadie, as if sensing that she's no longer the sole focus of Greta's attention, worms her way a bit more into her lap. She's too big to be a proper lap dog, but she manages to get her head and shoulders there. It's a ridiculous picture, the dog twisted into an ungainly pose, fluffy limbs splayed, and Greta can't help chuckling. "I'm growing rather fond of this one," she admits as she gently ruffles the fur on Sadie's chest. Maybe that's premature, or unfair to the other dogs. Or maybe it's serendipitous that this one seems to have chosen her.

"She seems to like you," Elise says. It's certainly a more encouraging response than 'a bit hasty, don't you think?' and Greta relaxes a little. "We've only had her here for a couple of months, but she doesn't have any health problems. Her coat will take some work -- that's one of the big things. She'll need to be brushed at least once a week, and you might end up wanting to take her to a groomer, just to keep all this fluff under control."

"What are the other big things?" Greta asks, as Sadie squirms into a more comfortable position and heaves a contented sigh.

"She's smart." Elise smiles wryly. "So you'll want to give her things to do. A lot of herding breeds, even if they're just part herding breed... if you don't give them a job, they'll come up with something on their own, and it might not be good. Sadie's pretty laid back, but if she gets bored, she'll just, like, let herself out of her pen. We had to add an extra lock."

"... Huh," Greta says, a little surprised, but not put off. The doorknobs in her apartment are all round, so she has a hard time imagining a dog being able to work them, intelligence aside. If she has to add a latch up out of a dog's reach, that wouldn't be too terrible an expense. "Well, I'm sure I could come up with something. Teach her tricks, if she's that clever."

"It doesn't have to be complicated," Elise adds. "I mean, 'fetch' can be a job." She smiles, then gets to her feet. "I've got some water bowls to refill, so I'll let you get acquainted. But if you have any other questions, just come find me, okay?"

Greta nods, and once the girl's left, turns back to Demelza. "I think I really like this one," she admits. "Is that--is it too quick?"

[letitbetrue]

"Well," Demelza says thoughtfully, though she's hiding a bit of a sly grin. "I did know I liked Julia and Jeremy straight off and they're children, which I think t'be looked upon as just as serious a commitment."

She's being silly and when she looks up at Greta, it's clear in her smile that she knows it, but she does sort of feel that to be true. Her children had come from her, of course, and she had carried them for nine months, but she knows there are women in Cornwall who'd not wanted some of their babies, who'd dropped them down old, unused mine shafts, who had done other horrible things in order to escape equally horrible situations, and she supposes if someone is able to do something like that, they must not feel all that attached to the child in the first place.

Perhaps she's wrong, having never been in such a situation, but she doesn't believe choosing a dog this quickly is a bad thing at all.

"I don't think it is," she says, shaking her head, reaching out to run her fingers through Sadie's soft fur. "I think sometimes there's a connection that seems silly to deny. Sadie clearly likes you and I think if you like her, too, then there's nothing else to consider, is there?" Maybe if she continued to look she would find another dog she likes as well, but they both know Greta can't take all of them home and there is likely something good to be said for all of them, but at the end of it, she still has to pick only one.

[andhiswife]

Greta rolls her eyes, albeit fondly. It's hardly a fair comparison. She'd hope any mother would take an immediate liking to their own child (though she knows better than to assume as much), in part because -- aside from the decision to have one or not, and setting aside whatever motherly influence you might have -- you don't really get to choose who you end up with. They grow, and their personalities emerge, and whether you like it or not, you work with what you're given.

It gives her a pang to remember, yet again, that she'll miss all of that with her own son. But before she can fixate on that unpleasant thought, Sadie lands a sloppy lick on her wrist, drawing her back to the present. Greta gives the dog a grateful pat, a fond (if slightly bewildered) smile on her face. Maybe it's not too quick. Maybe it just seems too perfect, and she doesn't trust perfection.

But Demelza's right. This doesn't have to be complicated, despite the way the books and websites have made it sound. Sadie might suit another owner as well as Greta, and another dog might suit her as well as Sadie, but that doesn't mean she's duty-bound to give every animal in here an equal amount of scrutiny. If she held herself to that standard, she'd never choose at all.

"What do you think, Sadie?" Greta asks, and the dog rolls off her lap and pushes herself upright, ears pricked. "D'you want to come home with me?" Sadie tips her head to one side, tail slowly waving. It's unlikely that she understands any of what Greta's said beyond her own name, but she looks as if she's trying. It's incredibly endearing, and Greta can't help but chuckle as she reaches out to ruffle the dog's ears.

"I think you're right," she adds to Demelza. "And anyway, we'd be here all week if we tried to meet all of them properly."

[letitbetrue]

"I think I could live here, if not for my family," Demelza admits, as she's always loved animals and in many cases she's loved them better than some people. There are exceptions, of course, there always are, but when she thinks of her father and men like George Warleggan, she finds she's bound to prefer animals each and every time. Animals have so little in the way of true cruelty. Any aggression they show is due to instinct and due out of some desire to hurt another person or ruin a man's life in the manner of which her father and George seem to exist. Even Francis can be forgiven, his harsh words for her said in a moment of deep anger and grief, but even so, she thinks she'd pick a dog over him, too.

"Sadie, do 'ee think you'll like to play with my Garrick?" she asks the dog, whose tail continues to sway back and forth. She doesn't wiggle quite like Garrick still sometimes does -- though he was more inclined to it as a pup -- but Demelza thinks that's a good thing. Perhaps some of her temperament might rub off on her beast, which would certainly please Ross.

Shifting around, Demelza reaches for a nearby ball, which seems to catch Sadie's interest and she smiles and then holds the ball out toward Greta. "Elise said even fetch could be considered a job, did she not? Perhaps you ought to test it out and see if she likes it."

[andhiswife]

"I think I saw a sign inside about volunteering." She raises her eyebrows. "Maybe you should look into it." It would take more than just the employees who work here to get all the dogs properly walked once a day, after all. Greta assumes they'd want that sort of thing, anyway. The yards are nice, but the dogs would learn every inch of them before too long.

The way Sadie's ears prick up when Demelza picks up the ball is adorable, and her eyes track it closely as Greta takes it. "I think someone wants the ball," Greta says, waving it enticingly for a moment before tossing it across the grass. Sadie takes off after it, and there's something intrinsically hilarious about the sight of her at a run. It's down to her fur, Greta thinks; the way it's trimmed on her legs makes them look almost unreal, as if she was drawn by someone who wasn't entirely sure what a dog was supposed to look like. It's enough to start her chuckling under her breath, and though she feels a little guilty for that, it also seems like a mark in the dog's favor. She can't ask for more than a dog that amuses her simply by existing. Goodness knows she could definitely use the amusement.

Sadie prances back over with the ball in her mouth, thrusting it toward Greta, and then jerking her head aside the moment she reaches for it. "Oh, come on," Greta scolds playfully, making another grab at it, which the dog tidily avoids. It isn't until Greta drops her hand with an overwrought sigh of frustration that Sadie moves in to drop the ball in her lap. She then takes an expectant step backwards, tail wagging.

"Does Garrick give you this much nonsense?" Greta asks, arching an eyebrow at Demelza before hucking the ball a bit farther.

[letitbetrue]

"I don't think Garrick'd know what t'do with a ball if it hit him on the nose," Demelza says, because although her dog can certainly be playful and has quite the mischievous streak, she's never thought to throw a ball for him and suspects he wouldn't know what to do with one if she tried. Perhaps a stick, he's certainly shown some interest in those in the past. Now she's curious, though, and she makes a note to go purchase a ball for Garrick on her way back home just to see if it's something he might like. Not in the flat, of course, not with such limited space, but out at Green Gardens on their vast lawns, maybe he would like to chase a ball.

And maybe it's something he and Sadie might do together.

"He do give me nonsense, though," Demelza says, thinking of all the scrapes Garrick had gotten into over the years and all the ways in which she's had to save him. He's saved her, though, just as often as she has him and for that reason alone she would never be able to give him up. Garrick is family and he'd been there before anyone in Darrow, before her children, before even Ross.

"I think perhaps tis a dog's purpose to give nonsense," she continues and although she's making a joke, there's a thoughtful lilt to her voice. "That's part of the joy of 'em, isn't it? That they remain so lighthearted even in the face of things that might break us down. They're silly and they make us lighter because of it. Without their nonsense, I must think they'd not be the same dogs we know and love at all."

[andhiswife]

Greta snorts out a laugh at that mental image, which is hilarious, though it also makes perfect sense. The thought of buying a toy for a dog would've been anathema to anyone back at the Village. A stick would be just as amusing, and you can pick those up off the ground for free.

It's different here, of course. She'd been floored when she first stepped into the pet aisle of one of Darrow's shops, and been confronted with a slew of stuffed animals indistinguishable from the ones they offer for children. It probably wouldn't take more than ten minutes for a motivated dog to completely destroy such a thing, scattering stuffing and whatnot everywhere. Ridiculous.

And speaking of: Sadie returns with the ball, this time letting Greta get her hand on it before planting her paws and leaning back, trying to instigate a tug-of-war. She doesn't pull too hard, though, and her tail continues its steady, jocular wave.

"I think you may be right," Greta says as she slowly waggles the ball back and forth, Sadie still holding on. She's done more smiling and laughing since she got here than she has in weeks, and she knows it's not a coincidence. The more time she spends with Sadie, the more she loves the idea of bringing her home -- and not just because she'd be a convenient, perennial distraction, but because she's too sweet to just be left here. Greta nods to herself, then lets go of the ball and gets to her feet. Undeterred, Sadie thrusts the ball back into her hand, and Greta gives it another gentle toss before heading over to where Elise is refilling a water bowl.

"I think I'd like to take Sadie home," Greta says, the dog in question catching up to them and dropping the ball to investigate the fresh water.

Elise grins. "She's a good choice. There's an application inside that you can fill out, and we can get the ball rolling. Do you have any other pets, or family members? We do like to recommend a meeting with them before you bring her home, just to make sure she's a good fit with everyone. I mean, we wouldn't ask you to bring your cat all the way out here, but we could cat test her for you."

"Oh," Greta says, a little surprised by the thoroughness of it all. "Er, no, no cats or anything." There's an implicit 'but' there, though, and she gazes off into the middle distance for a few moments. Sadie seems even-tempered, and Marvin and Jordan both got along well with Cu. She wouldn't anticipate any problems, if she brought Sadie along on some outing with Sam and Jordan. But she'd hate to be blindsided by one. "I think... could I just make a call?" she asks, a bit sheepishly. "I don't--I live by myself, but I have some friends that I spend a good deal of time with, and they've got a dog. I'm almost certain they'd get on just fine, but..."

Elise is already flapping her hand in understanding. "Not a problem. It's always better to figure these things out before you bring a dog home, and we do meet and greets all the time. Sadie gets along fine with the other dogs here, but better safe than sorry."

[letitbetrue]

Now that little bit of information catches Demelza's interest and she says nothing of it while Elise is still with them, but once they're inside and she's off getting the application, there's no denying she's going to bring it up. She has some friends she spends a good deal of time with and they have a dog. That's what Greta has said and Demelza knows for certain it's not her, because then she wouldn't have to make a call, not when she's right here.

No, she has a feeling this is a different kind of friend entirely, though it does throw her off a bit that Greta seems to be speaking of people plural.

"Come on back inside," Elisa says, leading them toward the gate. It makes Demelza worry for a moment, leaving Sadie alone, but she hopes the dog understands they're only leaving for a little while before she's going to be going home with Greta forever and that she'll not have to stay in this place much longer. Just in case, she turns and gives Sadie a nice scratch behind her ears and then a gentle finger on top of her nose, pressing lightly.

"Don't worry, we'll be back," she promises in a low voice.

[andhiswife]

Sadie drops the ball and looks at them quizzically, as if she can't understand why they're leaving so quickly, and it's enough to make Greta want to just pick her up (despite her size) and carry her along. She lingers long enough to bury her fingers in the soft fur on either side of Sadie's neck and murmur, "We won't be long."

As they follow Elise back inside, Greta ventures a quick, sidelong glance at Demelza. She can just about feel her friend's curiosity radiating off of her, like heat, and she knows it won't be long before she starts asking pointed questions. Which shouldn't be a problem, really, except something about Demelza's expression has her cheeks already prickling in preemptive embarrassment. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything.

Well, it's too late to take it back. Nor should she, not when Marvin's peace of mind and Jordan's safety are at stake. Arguably, at least; the odds of Sadie being trouble seem vanishingly small. But there's no accounting for the quirks of another dog or a toddler, even ones she knows fairly well. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Just sit tight for a sec while I grab an application for you," Elise says with a reassuring smile, before slipping behind the desk to rifle through a cubby -- a task made a bit trickier by the affections of the dog on the chair, which rises to its feet, tail wagging, and keeps trying to thrust its head beneath her arm. But she emerged triumphant a moment later, passing the paper and a pen across the counter. "Just give us a holler when this is done, and you can call your friend whenever you like. If they can't make it today, we do have a 24-hour hold period, too, so no one else adopts her out from under you."

"Thank you," Greta says, looking down at the form, though she's mostly bracing herself for a good-natured interrogation.

[letitbetrue]

At the very least, Demelza has the good grace to wait until Elise is gone before she fixes Greta with a curious, searching stare, one she holds for a good many moments in complete silence. It isn't that she expects her friend to break under such a stare -- though many have -- but that she wants to determine for herself if perhaps there's something to be told or if she's simply reading into things that aren't truly there. Ross has told her before that she has a tendency to do this, that she often sees romance where none exists, but she can't always be wrong.

"Who is it 'ee need to call?" she asks. It's a plain enough question with, what she imagines, will be a plain enough answer. And from what Greta says and, more importantly, how she says it, Demelza will be able to determine what other questions she might need to ask.

She's already quite certain there will be many.

"Is it a man?" she asks with a slowly growing smile. If there's a man in her friend's life, she'll have to be certain not to meddle, but it's the sort of thing she very much wants to know. Demelza wouldn't consider herself a gossip, but when it comes to her friends, she wants to share in their joy.

[andhiswife]

There is a surprising stretch of silence, which Greta refuses to break. There's still a tell-tale flush to her cheeks, but her apparent focus is on the form in front of her. She does need to fill it out, after all, and if Demelza's that curious, she can ask outright. Rushing to defend herself would just make her look as if she was hiding something. And she's not. Sam is a dear friend, and if the prospect of discussing him with Demelza is embarrassing, it's only because Greta can already tell how willing -- eager, even -- she is to get the wrong idea and run with it.

She almost wishes her friend were a little less like the people from her Village. Modern folk seem less keen to see anything inherently fraught in a friendship between two adults who just so happen to be a man and a woman. Back home, of course, there'd be no end of gossip. But that's one of the things she likes about Darrow: that she can be Sam's friend without everyone else making it out to be more than that.

(And if some small part of her wonders if it is more than that, it's still not something she wants to try and work out with a host of curious friends and acquaintances peering over her shoulder.)

Demelza's first question is innocent enough, and Greta's pulling in a breath to answer plainly when the second one lands. She presses her mouth shut and lets out a soft, exasperated huff, her blush deepening. "His name is Sam Flynn, and don't start," she says, pointing her pen sternly. "I met him not long after I arrived. He has a sweet little girl named Jordan, and she took to me." There's a heavily implied 'and that's all there is to it,' though she doubts she could say anything that would put an end to the conversation. She stubbornly returns to the form, anyway, filling in the rest of her name and address.

[letitbetrue]

It's a rather firm protest for something that's merely a friendship and Demelza raises her eyebrows in amused surprise at the vehemence of Greta's response. If someone were to ask her about Dwight, she knows her response would be similar -- that they've only ever been friends -- but she'd not feel such a need to insist upon it, for gossip exists everywhere and she's sure there is at least one person in Cornwall who'd thought her to be having an affair with Dwight Enys. Insisting so firmly only leads her to believe there is something more, something perhaps Greta is not yet prepared to explore on her own.

"Hm," she says softly, watching Greta fill out the form for a moment. If she doesn't want to speak of it further than that, Demelza won't press her overly much, but she does need it known that if Greta were to have something she wanted to share, Demelza would be open to whatever it may be.

"And did he take to 'ee?" she asks, gentling her voice some. "Tis not that I mean to pry, tis only that... well, you ought to be happy. And you ought to have countless men flinging themselves at 'ee between your beauty and your kindness and your baking. And I know happiness isn't always found with a man and that bein' on your own is nothing at all to be ashamed of, but the way your cheeks went pink..."

It's more than just friendship, she thinks.

[andhiswife]

She came off too strong, that's the problem, but there's no undoing it. And it's not the only problem; there are plenty of other ones that have occurred to her. If they weren't standing in an animal shelter, under the constant threat of interruption, she might even list them off, just to demonstrate that she doesn't need anyone else's help when it comes to thinking about all this. But it's a miserable list, and whether airing it brought her any grim satisfaction or not, it definitely wouldn't bring her any cheer.

She could say that what she ought to have is beside the point. She's still living on borrowed time, still struggling to find a balance between salvaging what happiness she can without stockpiling sorrow for the future -- for herself or anyone else she might leave here. She could point out that this isn't anything like Demelza and Ross and their comparatively charmed life: she and Sam are from different worlds, and if Darrow parts them, that's it. There won't be any inevitable reunions waiting for them. They don't belong together. She could go on about how worried she is that she's already made things difficult or uncomfortable (god, she still can't believe she just fell asleep on him), and that he was just too kind and polite to kick her while she was already down.

Honestly, she'll consider it a miracle if they can just hold on to what they've got. She won't risk ruining it over whatever silly, romantic notion Demelza's peddling.

She stares right through the form for a few moments, furiously blinking her vision back into focus. She is not going to start crying, god, she was so happy to be done doing that all the time. It's more frustration than sorrow, as if she's been backed into a corner with no easy way out. What does Demelza honestly expect her to do?

"I don't know," she says tersely. She sets down the pen for a moment, burying her face in her hands with a gusty sigh. "Maybe I shouldn't call him. I suppose it would seem rather... presumptuous." They haven't really cut back on the time they've been spending together (even if they'd tried, she suspects Jordan would have had something to say about it). But still, maybe it's too much to even imply that of course they'd be seeing so much of whatever dog she gets for herself.

[letitbetrue]

"No," Demelza says firmly, looping her arm through Greta's and tilting her head to lean her cheek on her friend's shoulder. "No, you ought to call him."

Because regardless of what Greta says, if there's someone in her life she's spending enough time with for her to even consider calling him for something like this, then he should be called. And Darrow is different, men aren't so mysterious as they had been in Cornwall (though she'd not call many of those men mysterious either, given their lustful gazes and their roaming hands) and she expects if this Sam is spending this much time with Greta, it's not simply due to the fact that his daughter is taken with her. Any smart man would be taken with her, too, and Demelza now wants to meet him so she can see for herself.

She's an eye for these things, after all, and as Ross would say, she does like to meddle. That's not what she'll do here, she knows Greta wouldn't want her to and she'd not want to make her friend uncomfortable.

"If you're spending that much time with his daughter, tis only the smart thing to do," she says, still with her cheek on Greta's shoulder. "And I'll not say a single word of anything, I'll be perfectly polite. I know it may be difficult to believe, but I've been capable of behaving myself every once in awhile and I would be happy to do so for 'ee."

She's teasing again, her words gentle, but light. Greta has had too much difficulty in her life as of late and Demelza would hate to add to it, even unintentionally.

[andhiswife]

Greta sighs again, tipping her head towards Demelza's in both acknowledgment and apology. She's not exactly proud of getting all worked up and complicating matters, even if it was her friend's questions that had prompted it. She could have anticipated them -- should have, really. Though even that wouldn't have made her a better liar.

She's still feeling a little uncertain about the whole affair, but mentioning Jordan helps bring things into focus. It's not unusual for her to babysit the girl, and knowing that Jordan could spend time at her apartment without having to tiptoe around the dog would put her and Sam's minds at ease. It doesn't even have to be about the time they all spend together; it could just be about that. She might be seizing onto that explanation a little too readily, relieved to have such a sensible excuse, but it's still the practical thing to do, isn't it?

It also helps that Demelza's promising to behave herself. Greta greets that with a faint, dubious snort, though it's just as much a relief as the babysitting excuse. She doesn't truly believe her friend would make things difficult on purpose, but if Greta's own overblown response is any indication, it could still happen by accident. She just wants this to be simple. They're meeting a dog, that's all.

"All right," she murmurs, digging out her phone and sending him a quick text before she can change her mind again. She's learned that just calling people directly isn't really done, and she doesn't want to interrupt him if he's busy. She sets the device aside and returns to the form, but only gets through half a line before there's an answering buzz. At that point, she does give in and just call him -- if only because she knows it'll be far quicker than trying to explain the whole situation by text.

He sounds pleased to hear from her, which helps put her at ease; she's evidently not interrupting anything important. Greta catches Demelza's eye, then quickly pivots away. She can't have this conversation and watch her friend's reactions at the same time. Instead, she ambles slowly about the lobby as she explains the situation, with occasional pauses and backtracks due to Jordan's interruptions (a good third of which are just 'hi, Greta!'s, bellowed at such volume that she has to pull the phone away from her ear with a sympathetic wince for Sam). Fortunately, he doesn't seem the least bit taken aback by her request, once she gets around to it, and assures her they'll be by as soon as they can manage. By the time she hangs up, she's grinning, buoyed by relief and pleased anticipation.

She'd almost forgot her audience, and she self-consciously reins herself in a little. "You promised to behave," she reminds her, though there's still a smile lurking in the corners of her eyes as she returns to the form. Knowing what a production it can be to get Jordan out of the house (even when she's inclined to be cooperative), Greta assumes she'll have more than enough time to fill it out before they arrive.

[letitbetrue]

Demelza desperately wants to eavesdrop. The urge is so strong she can feel it in her bones, but she respects Greta's friendship too much and doesn't want to become the sort of person who engages in such acts and so she stays put where she is, first reading over the form, then inviting a small dog in the office into her lap where she can stroke her belly and rubs her small feet gently. The dog lies placidly, all four of her paws up in the air, and by the time Greta returns -- wearing quite the smile, she notes -- Demelza's dress is covered in bits of white fur.

"I've said nothing at all," she answers, but she's smiling in return as Greta takes her seat once more and returns to the form.

"Judas, but they ask a lot of questions, don't they?" she asks, continuing to stroke the dog's ears as Greta fills out her answers. "Where you live and your name, that all do make plain sense to me, but there are so many questions about your schedule and what you plan t'do with the dog if 'ee work away from home. I suppose it's that they want their dogs to have the very best care, but it still seems to be so much."

Especially for someone like her, who simply found Garrick as a pup and brought him home with her, more than willing to risk the beating she knew would come when her father discovered him. Garrick is her best friend, her protector, the only presence she had been able to rely on for such a long time. It isn't the same any longer, it hasn't been since she met Ross, but Garrick is still so important to her and she knows she would fill out any form that was asked of her to be able to keep him now.

[improvises]

This certainly isn't how Sam expected to be spending his afternoon, but it definitely isn't a prospect he can object to, either. He's always had a fondness for rescue animals, has for a long time thought that he's probably closer to Marvin than he is to most people, so he'd have been glad to offer any input anyway. Making sure Jordan will mesh with whatever dog Greta's chosen is even less of a chore, slightly surprising in its thoughtfulness but entirely sensible, too. They do spend a fair amount of time together, and it isn't infrequently that Jordan goes over to Greta's. To have to worry about the two of them, dog and toddler, not getting along would be undoubtedly inconvenient. It's really the only way he's managed to talk himself out of adopting any more animals himself. He'd want to bring her, and she'd want all of them, and then there would be Marvin to consider, too, and how well he and another dog would do around each other. For him, it might be too much trouble — or, at least, he tells himself that — but in this instance, it's easy, especially if she already has one in mind.

By the time they reach the shelter, Jordan is what Sam would classify as a little too excited, though he's already told her, more than once, that they're not bringing home another dog for themselves. Still, once they're through the door, she tugs him forward, Sam keeping her hand in his so she doesn't get too far ahead of herself, calling out for Greta as soon as she catches sight of her.

Sam just laughs, a little helpless. "As soon as I told her 'dog,' this started," he says. "Here's hoping that won't make any difference." After pausing a beat, and offering a smile to Greta's friend as well, he adds belatedly, "Hi."

[andhiswife]

Greta hums in wry acknowledgment of Demelza's point. They clearly want to make sure their dogs are well placed, and she can't blame them for that. But it's far more scrutiny than anyone back home would ask for. There are people who have children without this much forethought. It makes her a bit nervous, actually -- what if she loses out on a technicality? Are they going to turn her away, empty-handed, because she has a job that takes her out of the house for a good chunk of the day? Wouldn't they rather know a prospective adopter was gainfully employed in the first place?

If there's an upshot to the form's complexity, it's that it manages to keep her absorbed. She finishes it with only a few minutes to spare before Sam and Jordan's arrival, which means she only has a few minutes to fret and second-guess herself. She goes over her answers for the nth time, running them all past Demelza, too (though, given that they both find the thoroughness of the form a little bewildering, her friend's reassurances can only go so far). When the door finally opens, and she hears Jordan calling out to her, she's relieved to finally have an excuse to set the dratted thing aside for a minute.

"Hello, sweetheart," she says to the girl, rising out of her chair so she can scoop her up into her arms -- the gesture now all but customary, Jordan perching on her hip with familiar ease. "You are getting taller every day. Soon, you'll be the one scooping me up." Jordan grins, anticipatory and just a touch uncertain, until Greta raises her eyebrows and asks, "You don't think so?" The girl shakes her head, giggling.

"Well, a little excitement is to be expected," Greta allows, though the smile she offers Sam is a touch sheepish. She hadn't really considered what Jordan might make of the trip, though if she had, she could've guessed that it would wind her up. It's a good thing that Sadie seems like a calm sort. Good, too, that at least one of them intends to leave here with a dog. That might make it easier to convince Jordan she's not losing out if Sam doesn't also get Marvin a new friend.

She gives a subtle, guilty start when Sam greets Demelza, belatedly realizing that she should have started with introductions. "Sam, this is Demelza Poldark. She's been an enormous help with," she flaps a hand in a shelter-encompassing gesture, "all of this. Demelza, this is Sam Flynn, and this is Jordan." She pivots so Jordan can see Demelza more easily, explaining, "Demelza is a very good friend of mine." 'Demelza' is also a bit of a mouthful for a three-year-old, so she's careful to pronounce it slowly for her.

[letitbetrue]

As soon as Sam comes in, Demelza can see that he's very handsome. Not nearly as handsome as Ross, of course, though she thinks perhaps that's an unfair comparison for her to make, since she doesn't believe any man to be as handsome as her husband, And yet he is handsome, terribly so. As he comes in, he barely even glances at her at first, which only serves to make a very smug feeling rise up in Demelza, though she does her best not to let it show because she had promised Greta she would behave. Men tend to like the look of her for some reason that she doesn't understand and Sam clearly only has eyes for Greta.

But she's perfectly polite and inclines her head slightly without thought, a form of greeting not often used in Darrow. It's only that she's focused so much on behaving properly that she's reverted to old habits, ones that are sometimes slightly embarrassing in Darrow and she decides she can blame Greta for this, since it's her friend she's trying not to embarrass in any way.

"I'm that pleased to meet 'ee," she says politely, then purposely avoids Greta's gaze for fear she might break out into laughter, and instead looks right at Jordan. "And you, too. I have a daughter as well, her name is Julia, though I do think she's a wee bit smaller than you are. How old are 'ee, Jordan?"